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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214117">Then everything passed and it was night again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxia_dont_come/pseuds/Ataraxia_dont_come'>Ataraxia_dont_come</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fryecest - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Routine, Sibling Incest, ООС</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:42:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29214117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxia_dont_come/pseuds/Ataraxia_dont_come</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jacob is going to kiss her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evie Frye/Jacob Frye</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Then everything passed and it was night again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            A translation of

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27772735">Потом всё прошло и снова была ночь</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ataraxia_dont_come/pseuds/Ataraxia_dont_come">Ataraxia_dont_come</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Taimlan: a few months after the DLC - Jack the Ripper</p><p>The title is a line from a poem by B.Y. Poplavsky "Mnemonics".</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He's got dust on his clothes and soot on his face, and Evie is laughing out loud.</p><p>‘You’re drunk,’ Jacob said, wiping a wet mark off her cheek with his sleeve. Sparse raindrops make his efforts seem futile.</p><p>She puts her arm around his shoulders and kisses him soundly on the cheek.</p><p>The smell of herbs is bitter. Crumpled inflorescences lay like a wreath on her hair.</p><p>He holds her down until the broken stones of the cobbled alley have done their work. Evie climbs her warm hands under his collar, tries to pull off the hood, and smears her lips on his other cheek. Warm and close. Too close, even for the late evening.</p><p>‘Evie,’ her name is on the tips of his tongue next to hard liquor and peppermint.</p><p>She invariably puts sweets in his pockets. How does she manage to find the time?</p><p>He doesn't get to sound reproachful. After all, it is her prerogative to be cautious and circumspect.</p><p>‘You're going to hate me in the morning for not stopping you from having your ‘’last'’ pint,’ he decides to play along. Probably too late.</p><p>‘The hell with it,’ Evie whispers and runs her fingers through his hair, huddling closer with her full weight. So much so that he presses her against the wall against his will. Dangerously close.</p><p>She makes him lean even lower, whispers right on his lips – ’left’ and pushes him away, darting a sleeping dart at the frozen shadow.</p><p>Jacob manages to take a few steps toward his target before Caleb Obvodchik slides down the wall, wheezing, holding onto his neck. In the lining of his clothes are the papers Jacob is looking for. The oily paper clings to his fingers.</p><p>But that's not what he's thinking about at all.</p><p>‘So, what’s in there?’ Evie leans over his shoulder, trying to make out the jagged letters in the dim light of the gas lamp. ‘We need to get away. On the rooftops.’</p><p>It takes hardly longer to walk across the rooftops, wet after the rain, than it does to walk through the crowded streets of the night. But Evie, even slipping, manages to outrun him. He tries not to lose sight of her. The cloak he threw over her shoulders gives the illusion of wings in the wind.</p><p>Almost as far as the open window, where he climbs in after her, instead of the icy wind, he is haunted by the feeling of warm fingers in his hair and her breath on his face.</p><p>‘Is something wrong?’ Evie pulls down the soaked fabric and immediately loosens the lacing of the corset. ‘You didn't say anything the whole way.’</p><p>‘Why did you choose this cover?’</p><p>‘He'd be scared to see one. A drunken couple making out in the alley wasn't suspicious,’ Evie shrugged, her crumpled white shirt almost revealing her shoulder. ‘I'm sorry if I embarrassed you.’</p><p>She pulls the hairpins out of her hair – the petals from the tossed wreath tangle in her hair. She sits down on the bed and begins to take off her shoes.</p><p>‘Will you take the papers to the customer yourself or shall I do it?’</p><p>‘You've never…’</p><p>‘Never what? Used our connection like that? Does that bother you?’ She checks the windows. And the latch on the door.</p><p>She always does.</p><p>As if this ritual calms the ghosts.</p><p>Maybe. Because ghosts don't exist. And Jack is dead.</p><p>He falls with the back of his head on the pillow without removing his wet clothes.</p><p>‘What's wrong?’ Evie leans over, fixes his hair and touches his forehead. She asks with a chuckle. ‘Aren't you sick, Jacob Frye?’</p><p>She touches his forehead and strokes the skin under his eye.</p><p>‘You're right,’ he pulls her hand away and gets out of bed. ‘I’m going to give him the papers. And come back later.’</p><p>When she's asleep.</p><p>And he will try to fall asleep himself, without searching out Jack's figure in the shadows of the room.</p><p>‘It's raining outside,’ Evie pulls him by the sleeve. ‘Besides Stein can live without his formulas until tomorrow. Don't go.’</p><p>He sighs, but does not argue. He removes the arm shields from his wrist and begins to take off his clothes.</p><p>Cold droplets roll under his shirt collar.</p><p>‘It's easier for me to fall asleep when you're beside me,’ she adds, watching him.</p><p>Yes, another role. Like he's coping with it. Or does she give him the opportunity to “cope”? Finding out what task he can do?</p><p>He learns not to be angry at Evie for... taking care of him.</p><p>But sometimes he forgets that it's about her, too.</p><p>That he should keep her safe. Except now it's not knives and bullets, it's things he shouldn't talk about. And ask.</p><p>And especially not to allow others to do so.</p><p>He smooths his hair and sits down on the bed, taking care of his shoes.</p><p>Evie crawls under his side, stroking his shoulders and his freckles.</p><p>‘So that's who's kissing my brother instead of me.</p><p>You've never kissed me,’ he grumbled.</p><p>‘Not true,’ Evie snaps him on the nose. ‘Once or twice when it was your birthday. It's a special kiss from the big sister. You know, like a remedy for the evil eye.’</p><p>She puts out the lamp and rustles the blanket.</p><p>All you have to do is reach out your hand.</p><p>They moved the beds together deliberately since she stayed.</p><p>‘What about me?’</p><p>She quiets down on her side of the bed.</p><p>‘What?’</p><p>‘May I kiss you?’</p><p>Someone's laughter echoes behind the wall. A drunken song is heard outside the city window. The darkness in their room has the smell of sandalwood.</p><p>The words have a taste of fear. Sweet.</p><p>He holds his breath and strains his hearing as hard as he can. Evie answers in a whisper, but it's a loud whisper:</p><p>‘You may.’<br/>
Silence held between them. And all he hears is his own heartbeat.</p><p>He thinks she'll turn it into a joke, but instead Evie said:</p><p>‘Will you wait for the next year?’</p><p>As if she really expected him to do it.</p><p>‘No, I… Wait.’</p><p>He sits down on the bed. He rubs his face. For some reason all of this reminds him of the evening at home, at Crowley's. It was a full moon then, and the whole room was filled with light.</p><p>Jacob would say to himself back then: ‘Do it, or you'll regret not to.’</p><p>Probably the last few years, he regretted it especially often.</p><p>And that is why he has no doubts now.</p><p>He puts his palms on her cheeks. The light from the window is not enough to distinguish the expression on her face.</p><p>Perhaps it’s for the best? But he closes his eyes tight, as if he's fourteen again…</p><p>They've never talked about it since that night.</p><p>Jack was the one who talked about it.</p><p>Jacob frowns, trying not to remember. A scar on his side, not completely healed, stretches his skin.</p><p>Doubtful thoughts pierce with icy needles. Could it be her desperation? Curiosity? Cruel pity?</p><p>Will he find out her truth?</p><p>Evie puts her hand on top of his, as if she's afraid he'll let go. And with her other hand, she holds onto his shirt, as if she wants to stop him from escaping.</p><p>She has always been more fearless.</p><p>This knowledge gives him strength.</p><p>To reach forward and meet her lips with his own. So simple.</p><p>He can't remember the last time he kissed someone. He can't remember the last time he didn't imagine her in his partner's place.<br/>
And all he cares about now is how not to make a mistake.</p><p>As long as she doesn't part her lips, he stops caring about such little things. The taste of the alcohol from the pub where they followed Caleb all night. It burns just as badly.</p><p>It's... Evie. It's like he's done it before. His whole life.</p><p>He caresses her lips with his. Allows it to be like this. Not perfect. A complete mess. As they bump noses, stealing each other's breath.</p><p>And when their tongues touch, they swoon together.</p><p>Blood rushes to his cheeks and even under his thin shirt it's too hot.</p><p>Evie wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and slides her tongue along his.</p><p>His Evie. To hell with doubts.</p><p>He holds her close to him, as if he's not going to let her go again.</p><p>‘Don't let go,’ she agrees and touches his bristle with her fingers, whispering trustingly in his ear. ‘I've been thinking about it since that night at Crowley's.’</p><p>He strokes her cheek, touching the lips he just kissed.</p><p>‘Why didn't you say it before?’</p><p>They could have had years. And things could have been different.</p><p>He feels cheated where there is no cheating. Obviously, it should have been a shared decision. Not a unilateral one, as he himself probably would have done.</p><p>And he just didn't see the obvious.</p><p>He saw her as nothing more than a competitor. Except for the ever-present sister, who is always right, who never let him miss a beat.</p><p>Didn't perceive her as... a woman.</p><p>Being the man she thought about?</p><p>‘I don't know,’ she exhaled. ‘It's always been you, Jacob.’</p><p>Suddenly she laughs.</p><p>Light-heartedly and freely. Probably for the first time since she arrived.</p><p>And that's what really makes him forget about everything.<br/>
Even Jack's ghost has no room in this darkness filled with her laughter.</p><p>They're alive, aren't they? Now they can allow themselves everything. And that's the most important thing.</p>
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